


The Best Neighbors Communicate via Wifi

by 61Below



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Jack Zimmermann vs the Real World, M/M, Misunderstandings, Neighbors, POV Outsider, bribery pies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/61Below/pseuds/61Below
Summary: At first, Jack's new neighbors in Providence are a bit awe-struck/leery when this famous hockey player moves in. At this point, he’s not really apersonto them yet, he’s still a character. But one by one they figure out that contrary to whatever the media is peddling, Jack Zimmermann is an awkward dork, and he needs protecting.





	The Best Neighbors Communicate via Wifi

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](http://61below.tumblr.com/post/163136489078/neighbor-pov) tumblr post

Sandra was hauling her bike down the stairs outside their apartment building when she saw a woman coming up, lugging a big tupperware storage bin. So Sandra tried to step to the side to give her more room, but she ended up falling sideways off the edge of the stairs with a completely undignified shriek, landing in a low juniper shrub. The bush squashed flat beneath the weight of her bike and her bulk, but _thank g-d_ the pedal missed jabbing her in the side by mere inches. Her helmet flew from her grip and went bouncing down the stairs. 

"Shit, are you okay?" the woman cried and dropped the bin with a clatter, rushing to Sandra's side. 

Groaning more out of embarrassed frustration than anything, Sandra looked up— blonde hair, eyes blue as the sky, rosy-cheeked and angelic and— immediately identifiable. "Alicia _Zimmermann??_ "

Sandra's voice did _not_ just squeak, shitshitshit—

This _icon_ did not just reach out a hand to help her up—

" _Maman?_ " someone called from the street below, and then a man came bounding up the steps. He stopped to pick up Sandra's helmet on his way, and then _Alicia Zimmermann_ was brushing pine needles and cedar mulch off her, tutting, "Are you alright?"

Breathlessly, Sandra cried, "Oh! Yes, the bush caught me. I'm mostly just hoping that the ground will swallow me whole so you wouldn't have had to see that, ohmyword, ma'am!"

 _Alicia Freaking Zimmermann_ patted Sandra's cheek and said, "Don't worry darling, and I _won't_ tell you about the time I fell from a set piece during an Annie Leibovitz shoot."

Sandra choked on a laugh and let the man push her helmet into her hands. He said, "Looks okay, but you're supposed to replace a helmet after each crash," as he lifted her bike out of the shrub, and his voice was shy and accented and— OH! this was Alicia Zimmermann's son. 

But she grimaced as she nodded— she really did't want to dip into her fun fund for something so decidedly not fun, but he was right. She accepted her bike with soft thanks and then hefted it over her shoulder again. 

Then the son— Jack, that's right, asked, "Euh, what's your name?"

She blinked hard— how was this even approaching her life? But she said, "Sandra Cohen."

He nodded and said, "Jack Zimmermann."

"Well this is one way to meet your new neighbors, eh?" another, older man asked jovially as he came puffing up the steps, carrying two stacked tupperware storage bins. 

Jack Zimmermann huffed an exasperated, " _Dad,_ " and swiped the top bin with ease 

Sandra pasted on a bright smile and babbled goodbyes, and edged her way past them, taking _care_ to mind her footing this time. 

\---

Later, the day-doorman, Mike W, called her over on her way back in, and her aching back grumbled irritably at this awful _one more thing_ keeping her from faceplanting onto her couch. He pulled out a box from behind the counter with a, "This got couriered over here for you today, man." And Sandra internally shrieked at the thought of juggling a box and her bag _and_ her bike all the way up to her apartment, but she smiled her thanks and took it. 

(Luckily, no one else decided to try to cram into the elevator with her this time).

And after she'd hung up her bike and threw down her bag, she dug around for a pair of scissors to no avail. So she used a steak knife to cut open the packing tape— and _there_ was a brand new helmet. She lifted it out, gobsmacked, and a gift receipt fell out. She picked it up and saw a typed comment: "It was nice to meet you, but I'm even more glad you weren't hurt. I hope this fits? --JLZ" 

And Sandra's poor little gay heart wailed at the wasted meet-cute. 

But.... _Alicia McFreaking Zimmermann!_

Sandra squealed and texted her girlfriend to see if she wanted to come over for a movie marathon.


End file.
